Dyndra Starlin arrives on Terra-Draxus with her small troop of soldiers.

  Not Officers, soldiers.

  She had wanted soldiers, and she had gotten soldiers.

  Dyndra couldn’t be happier.

  Ever since she was young, she dreamed of leading an army into battle.

  The boots of the Division marched across her pnet when she was just a child.

  Even back then, she couldn’t help but imagine charging into them headfirst with a sword drawn as a battalion cries out behind her with red phoenix fgs flowing in the air, “For the Republic!”

  She can still hear that cry in her dreams as the men in red and white lift her and her family from the rubble.

  Dyndra is finally able to live out her dreams at st.

  Even if the war is over, the fact remains that the Republic still has enemies. Dyndra won’t rest until those enemies are defeated.

  And she’ll help lift any innocent she comes across out of the rubble.

  “You’re here on the President’s orders?” The customs Officer asks at her arrival.

  Dyndra smiles and says, “Yes, of course,” as she pnts her hands on her hips.

  The man rolls his eyes and writes the names of her and her troopers into the book.

  The march into the city proves to be much shorter than Dyndra expected.

  The Officers at the Spaceport had Grogrungs prepared for her and her troop the moment they arrived.

  It’s good to see that things are running efficiently, Dyndra tells herself as she overlooks the commoners scattered all about the street.

  The markets are far from clean, but they are filled with shoppers and shopkeepers alike. They are well-stocked as well. At one point in their journey, Dyndra stops by a fruit vendor to purchase an apple.

  If the Division still existed, stuff like this would be reguted solely by their own government, Dyndra thinks as she bites into the apple. What a horror that would be. To live under one group's sole authority like that.

  A hawk soars over her head as she plunges deeper into the city with her troop behind her. A Republic Officer is at every street corner, diligently watching the commoners pass on their way to the market.

  One of them greets Dyndra himself.

  “Captain?”

  “General, actually.” Dyndra smiles again. The title rolls nicely off her tongue as if it has always belonged to her. “General Dyndra Starlin,” She hops off her Grogrung to greet the man.

  “Officer Ramien,” The man introduces himself with a handshake that Dyndra gdly accepts.

  However, she doesn’t take what he says next as gdly. “That’s an awful lot of soldiers you have with you. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that you were sent to repce my Officers here.”

  “Well, I’m happy that you do know better then.” Dyndra does her best to shrug off Ramien’s remark as she signals for her troop to dismount. “The Madam President sent us,” She informs Ramien and the other Officers who have gathered around her with a fsh of the parchment she had drafted up before she left Tethaseele.

  One of the Officers squints at the paper and gives his comrade a dirty look. Ramien takes the parchment from Dyndra and looks it over himself.

  Dyndra begins to reach back for it, but hesitates and sets her hands at her sides. Three of her soldiers gather around her to confront the Officers.

  “Is there an issue here, General?” A man from her troop asks with a hand on his sword belt.

  “Everything’s fine, Jylon,” Dyndra mutters, hopeful that she is speaking the truth.

  Ramien finally looks to her at the words and reluctantly hands back the parchment with a snort, “People don’t need much aid here. We got a few elixir addicts and quite a few beggars, but no severe poverty. As for what else is written on there, if the President is expecting to find terrorists here, she’ll be awfully disappointed.”

  Dyndra rolls the parchment back up and returns it to her saddle.

  It’s not terrorists that she’s looking for, she reminds herself, but she probably shouldn’t tell Ramien that.

  Don’t move against Kaga directly, Tendo said during that meeting, along with, Ask yourself how many others he’s likely to have, and then double it.

  Dyndra hates the thought, but there is a firm possibility that Ramien may be among those who have been bought off by Kaga.

  “That’s no problem,” Dyndra tells Ramien as she mounts her Grogrung once more and signals for her men to do the same, “I intend to carry out my orders either way.”

  Ramien scowls at her and her troop as they ride off deeper into the city.

  The main Republic encampment is located directly within Terra-Draxus’s city center, and it is there that Dyndra intends to begin her operation.

  The troop stables their Grogrungs at the camp while Dyndra shows her parchment to the head Sergeant, a white-bearded man with an impossible look about him that leads Dyndra to wonder if he’s fifty or thirty. Either way, she does not dare to ask.

  He is nice enough, though, and gratefully shows her and her troop to a cleared building south of the encampment, which they can operate out of.

  “Had to chase off a few squatters, they may still come back, but it’ll do you good for now,” The Sergeant states before leaving them to their work.

  It is only once she is sure that he is gone that Dyndra announces to her troop, “The first order of business is to locate Ryomen Kaga; everything we do afterwards is going to rely on knowing where he is.”

  Her soldiers all nod along with her words as she rolls a map of the city out onto a nearby table.

  The next hour is spent deciding how the troop should split up and what excuses they should use for their activity.

  Jylon and two of the younger troopers settle on returning to the spaceport and asking around for a bck-haired girl who recently came of age under the guise that she’s a thief trying to flee the pnet.

  One of Dyndra’s most trusted troopers, Harper Defaen, a woman about her age who she went through the academy with, agrees to lead three of her other troopers into the southside of the city. There, they will ask the same question as Jylon’s group, but will cim that the girl is an addict rather than a thief.

  As her troop continues their pns and continues to agree on asking after Cassandra Soryu as if she were some common criminal, Dyndra can’t help but wonder if Vanessa would be offended or amused by the discussion.

  The Madam president doesn’t seem to think highly of her step-daughter, and Tendo seems to think that going after her is far too dangerous. But Cassandra is still important to the Republic even if only by matter of marriage.

  Dyndra wants to pay back the Republic for all the good it’s done for her and her family. She wants to be that person in white and red, helping pull someone out of the rubble.

  I’m only a year older than her, Dyndra thinks as her troop all leave for the north, south, east, and west areas of the city.

  Nineteen and I’ve managed to rise through the ranks at the same speed that my predecessors did during the war. I wonder what Cassandra has done in that time?

  And why did she choose to leave the Republic despite living luxuriously with the head of it?

  The question echoes in her mind as she trots along the road atop her Grogrung and asks after a bck-haired girl that she states is a criminal.

  A pair of hawks fly high above her head and the numerous buildings that make up the wealthy shopping district.

  It is there that Dyndra encounters Ramien again.

  “Find any of your terrorist radicals yet?” He sneers. Dyndra pys off the biting remark with a ugh, “As a matter of fact, I’m hot on the trail of one right now.”

  “Really?” Ramien raises an eyebrow.

  “Really,” Dyndra smirks, “Have you seen a girl with bck hair by any chance? About my height and age?”

  Ramien shrugs and leans against the wall of an antique shop. “Lot of those running around. You’d have to be more specific.”

  Accusing me of inexperience, are you?

  Dyndra thinks of the only extra characteristic Cassandra may currently possess, “She’d probably be carrying a leather case with her, a—” Terrorist. You cimed she was a terrorist, Dyndra catches herself, “It would be a violin case that she’s been using to transport letters and papers. My troop and I have uncovered that she’s a messenger.”

  Ramien seems to grow dismissive rather than intrigued. “A Messenger?” He chuckles, “Shouldn’t you be following her back to the people she’s messaging then?”

  “Well, yes, but I have to find her first.”

  Dyndra’s quick wit drives a hearty ugh out of Ramien, “Fair enough. Anyway, I haven’t seen her, so— Hey! Get away, you!” He unholsters his baton and shakes it at a child clothed in rags who tugs at the side of Dyndra’s saddle.

  The child runs off but trips over a puddle in the alley.

  “Is that one of those beggars that you told me about?” Dyndra asks Ramien.

  The Officer huffs and holsters his pstic baton, “No doubt about it. I haven’t seen that one before, though. They usually aren’t so bold.”

  The child stands in the alley and looks back at Dyndra. The small girl’s skin is as pale as death itself, and her hair is the same colorless shade. However, her eyes are a deep and piercing blue.

  Dyndra calls out to her, “Why’d you pull on my saddle?”

  The girl looks to the sky and runs off into the darkness of night.

  Ramien snorts, “Probably rummaging for coins. I’d check my pouches if I were you.”

  Dyndra grimaces as she follows Ramien’s advice. The Officer ughs for a final time before leaving Dyndra, “Good luck with finding your terrorist messenger.”

  Dyndra thinks to hurl back a rebuttal as her fingers find the edge of a folded paper.

  A paper that she did not put there.

  She dismounts and takes the paper from the small pouch on her saddle. The note is torn and stained, but although the ink is smeared, the letters are clear.

  Clear and arming.

  CaSs is n Mori-kEpEr

  HawKs WacH n LiSen

  Go aLonE

  nO WhiTE Or rEd

  Dyndra rushes to shove the note into her pocket and mounts her saddle as a hawk cries out overhead. Galihend has qrows. Is it possible that Ryomen has hawks?

  Dyndra doesn’t want to risk the possibility that he might.

  Tendo’s words ring in her ear again, Don’t move against Kaga directly. You can’t win a fight with him that way. He’ll send his own people after us, and we’ll all be dead before dawn.

  That girl couldn’t have been one of his, could she? How does she know about Cassandra?

  I may very well be running into a trap, Dyndra considers as she speeds through the night streets on her Grogrung.

  She soon begins to spot the flyers and small posters for the Mori-keeper.

  The high-css nightclub seems to only be advertised on the wealthy side of town. Dyndra didn’t spot any of these advertisements anywhere else.

  She dismounts again when she comes across a man and a woman garbed in rich silks, overlooking one of the posters. “Excuse me,” she asks them, “can you tell me more about that pce?”

  The couple stares at her as if she were the single dumbest person in the universe.

  “The Mori-keeper?” The man scoffs, “Why are you interested? Anyone aligned with the Republic or Division isn’t allowed in.”

  “May I ask why?”

  The couple ignores her question and walks off toward a bright cube of a building in the distance, illuminated by purple torchlight.

  The light beckons Dyndra.

  Even if it is a trap, it’s the best lead I have, and even if I’m being watched, I can still at least scout it. She makes a decision.

  I’ll go search it and report back what I find to my troopers. I went off alone because I trusted them with this mission, and the Madam President trusted me to bring Cassandra back to her.

  I will not fail the Republic.

  Dyndra leads her Grogrung to a stable beside one of the many tailor shops on the street. Remembering the note, she takes a bag of coins from her saddle and purchases a yellow dress as fast as she can.

  The thing barely fits her and exposes all the scraps and bruises on her body, but it is enough to get her in line to the entrance of the Mori-keeper unnoticed.

  However, it is not enough to pass the guard who asks for an entrance fee.

  “I was under the impression that this was a public establishment,” She tells the guardsman as they search her for weapons.

  “It is,” the guard states as he grabs his spear, “At least for paying patrons that is.”

  A weapons search, several guardsmen with spears, and an entrance fee? This is an awful lot of security for just a nightclub. Dyndra realizes that she’s definitely in the right pce. What is she going to do about that entrance fee, though?

  The guardsmen all give her a look that seems to say, “Pay now before we make you.”

  Dyndra clenches a fist and prepares for the worst, only for a sudden snap to ring out in the distance. In turning her head toward the sound, her foot hits a bag of coins.

  The guardsmen’s eyes all widen, and two of them scratch their heads.

  Dyndra chooses to look into the sudden miracle ter and use the coins as payment right now.

  One of the guardsmen angrily counts them, another huffs, “Where’d you get the scars?”

  “Same pce I got the coin.”

  “What pce is that?”

  Dyndra lets a smug look settle across her face as the guardsman counting the coin signals to let her through.

  “A pce you’ll never know, my friend.”

  Dyndra enters the Mori-keeper with a smile on her face.